


Self Worth and Honesty

by susiephalange



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adorable Thor, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Fluff, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Thor Is Not Stupid, insecure reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6915475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark throws you a birthday party: the last thing you want, to be honest. Lucky your boyfriend Thor is a perceptive fellow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self Worth and Honesty

**Author's Note:**

> ヾ(〃^∇^)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ thor ♡

Another day, another party at the Avengers tower. Whilst the usual gigs Tony held were in his own honour or for the 'battle valour', as your boyfriend Thor, put it, this party was for a different reason - your birthday.

You had deliberately asked for just a simple cake and a bunch of awful presents, not for Scott Lang showing off his suit, half drunk and doing something that looked like gymnastics with a finally loosened up Steve. The guest list had been in the hundreds, and yet, watching the members of groups like the X-Men, Fantastic Four, heck, even your boyfriend's brother Loki was here - on his best behaviour - you couldn't feel more alone.

And unworthy.

It wasn't that you felt you were the scum of the earth and deserved to eat last at the table of the warriors; these sorts of events were not for you. The dress was too showy, the music too loud, the alcohol too strong. Too uncomfortable.

That's why you snuck away.

The throb of the bass could still be heard from the roof, where you had hiked your dress high enough so you could sit cross-legged on the edge, observing the stars. It was a clear night, and even the city smog and the light pollution was kind to you, allowing to you see constellations that you hadn't seen since the missions you'd been on months previous. There hadn't been internet while staking out in the mountains in Western Asia, but there had been stars.

Maybe another reason you couldn't get in the mood to party was how ordinary you were. In the place you had just fled, there was a billionaire one simple question away from having a fiancé, an super solider who could model underwear for extra cash, a scientist who was too smart for it to be legal, a set of spies who were both too charming and good-looking to be true. And then, a Norse god.

Who you were dating.

You, a lowly low-ranked foot-soldier of a level 3 spy, someone Coulson himself used to be expendable on several missions already. You, who Odin despised, you, whose thighs touched and face broke out and had hair that made Chewbacca look like a goddamned Pantene model.

"_________?"

You flinched, nearly toppling forward from the roof. Damn the PT-SD. Spies weren't supposed to be jump-scared. All it had taken was a bad mission, and now it's all you dream of when you close your eyes.

You still hadn't told Thor you screwed that mission up. Maybe he'd figured it out already. Or overheard Fury's plans for the clean-up task force to fix what mistakes you'd cost the agency.

"Thor, you scared me," you breathed, laying a hand on your chest. "Don't sneak up on me like that," you bit your lip, and remembered how high your dress was on your legs, standing to tug it down. "Please..."

His face darkened, those usually bright eyes clouding with concern. A corner of your mind taunted you, why would he be concerned? You're not that great...

"My dear _______, what are you doing here? The celebration is in your honour," he tells you, holding what looks like a napkin with cake to you. "Tony has already cut the cake."

You eye the sugary treat warily, turning your attention to the city once more.

"'M not hungry."

You hear his sigh. And the steps he takes to get to where you're sitting, and the plop of the napkin when he abandons it. Thor goes to wrap an arm around you, but you move away. As nice as it would be to have his body heat re-warm you from the night air, inside, you can't shake the feeling that you're filth. Scum. Unworthy.

You're a low-ranked level three spy. He's a Prince of Asgard, a God.

You're not some Victoria's Secret model and he's a specimen.

You're -

"_______, look at me," Thor intones. You can hear it in his voice that he's not in the mood for your games, no matter how buzzed he is on Tony's liquor, and the stuff he brought from Asgard which the only thing he can truly get drunk on. "I thought you liked that sort of cake."

He's right. You love it. How it looks, how it smells, tastes ... just not how it looks on your waistline.

"I do like it, Thor..." You start, unsure where to go with this.

Like Pepper, being the girlfriend of an Avenger gave you a share of the limelight, and it may or may not have impacted on more than your mood tonight - after passing a news vendor on the street, with the headline on the Daily Bugle about Thor's 'godliness' and your 'not-godliness', it went down hill.

Another thing to add to the list of what's wrong with ________.

"Sweet ________, if you desire cake, but the company out here, I am most happy to oblige," he rumbles, bending to get the abandoned cake.

You nearly melt.

"It...it isn't what you think is wrong with me," your mumble has been vanquished by a spell of bravado, that straightens your spine and awakens your mind.

"Oh?" Thor intones.

You clear your throat. "Your dad hates me, I'm not special or cool enough for you, I'm not skinny, you're famous -,"

Thor silences you by dropping the cake. Instead of hearing a splat, both of you stop listening to you to watch it fall from the balcony of the tower to its doom.

Somewhere down below, you two hear a person cry out.

"Is this a hint of unworthiness I hear from you?" He hums, ignoring the plight of the dropped cake.

You have to give it to him. He's hit the nail on the head. Straight on.

"I'm a hot mess, Thor. Jane, she's practically perfect -,"

Thor's chest rumbled in disagreement. "I do not need a perfect woman, or a cold mess. I like your mess, just as you like mine. My __________, I know you feel this way. But I love you for all your mess, for all your faults, because you're human."

You can't help but choke back a sob. "Really?"

He nods, gathering you in for a hug. "Really, really."

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


End file.
